


i'm your silver lining

by lovedandliked



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Humor, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 17:40:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6434020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovedandliked/pseuds/lovedandliked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Leslie's told Ann everything about her and Ben. They know everything there is to know about each other. Ann's her person. Her platonic person, anyway." Leslie attempts to make her way through an unexpected breakup.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm your silver lining

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written in years and i'm expecting this to be truly horrible. always under-promise so you can over-deliver, right? c:
> 
> this is for olivia.

Leslie has gotten used to being broken up with.

She’s chalked it all up to being a strong, independent woman. At this point, she knows that it’s a cliché, but she truly thinks that it applies to her. She’s spent her entire life focusing on her career, and a career in politics, at that. She’s never really had time for men in her life, and when she has, it’s been fifteen minutes here and there. And there is something, she’s learned, about being a strong, independent woman that steers men away from her. 

Although, sometimes it seems like she’s the only strong, independent woman with his problem.

Maybe it really is her fault. Maybe she’s one of those people that can’t find their someone, no matter how many friends they have set them up or online dating sites they sign up for. With 7 billion people in the world, there’s no way she’ll come into contact with every single one of them. Statistically speaking, that is. For all she knows, her person is halfway across the globe, riding a bicycle with a baguette in the basket in Southern France or wrangling kangaroos in Australia. 

Sometimes, when she thinks about it, growing old by herself doesn’t sound that bad. She’s got books. And a TV. And plenty of friends that are all off on their own romantic endeavors. She had been single long enough before her relationship with the state auditor. She can definitely handle being single again.

It was just the timing of it all that really threw her for a loop. When she and Ben had agreed to go forth with their relationship, she knew that he would eventually have to move, and she had told him that she was fine with that. They had both told each other that they could see themselves making a long distance relationship work. After all, it was just lots of Skype calls and making those Facebook posts saying how much you missed one another, right? And gifts, lots and lots of gifts. But she’s already good at that, so it doesn’t worry her as much. 

Things were going great. She was happy, he was happy, and not just with each other, but with themselves. Work was great. Things were great. Everything was great. 

And then Ben decided that he was going to move. Without her. Without holding on to any part of her.  
It sucks. That’s really the only thought that comes to mind when she’s asked how she’s doing. Not okay, not fine, just it sucks. She’s had trouble forming her thoughts into words – and that’s never happened before her life, so. She’s kind of freaked out.

The only person she’s really managed to open up to regarding her Ben debacle is, no surprise, Ann. And debacle isn’t really the right word. It’s more of a… crisis. Either way, she tells Ann everything. That isn’t news to anyone. They have daytrips and evenings in that rival anything those women from Sex and the City or what she’s sure the women on The View want you to think they go out and do once the cameras stop rolling. They spend nearly every waking moment connected to one another, whether it be at work, at Ann’s, or texting and calling each other throughout the day.

(Normally Leslie is the one that’s doing the texting and calling, telling Ann about some mundane event of her day, but Ann always humors her with a smiley face, or a heart emoji.)

Leslie’s told Ann everything about her and Ben. They know everything there is to know about each other. Ann’s her person. Her platonic person, anyway.

Unfortunately for her, Leslie doesn’t have time to mope around and feel sorry for herself now that Ben’s gone. It’s Fourth of July weekend, and she’s planned this huge appreciation barbecue for not just her staff, but the entire building. She was originally supposed to just help plan the thing, but after people stopped keeping up with their end of the bargain when it came to getting things ready, Leslie took matters into her own hands and planned the entire barbecue. What was originally known as “The Pawnee City Hall Appreciation Barbecue” has now morphed into “Leslie Knope and The Department of Parks and Recreation Proudly Present The Pawnee City Hall Fourth of July Summer Barbecue Bash (BYOB).” 

She has the banner to prove it hanging over the gazebo by the barbecue and the picnic tables, sheltered away from the sand.  
She would have had it at a park, but Tom had suggested that they hold it at the beach, because not only is it summertime, but the beach was just cleared this spring for swimming. The one beach in the entire city had been plagued with a nasty swimmer’s itch infestation for the past few years. 

Besides, Tom tells her that having the barbecue at a beach is sexier. More people will come. Maybe she’ll be able to find a rebound from Ben. She’s not sure. She’s not sure if she wants to.

:.:.:

Their barbecue goes off without a hitch. Leslie had been worrying all day that something would catch on fire, or someone would need saving after nearly drowning in the lake, and it would cause them to be prohibited from ever throwing a staff barbecue on the beach again. It was becoming commonplace for her and her coworkers to be banned from certain areas of the city because of simple oversights they had made when it came to safety and/or common sense.

People bring potato salad and fresh fruit and homemade brownies. Ron cooks burgers and hot dogs on the little charcoal-powered grill under the gazebo. At one point, they run out of briquettes and Leslie sends Tom to pick up more, and he returns with the charcoal and enough alcohol to fuel a frat party. She had told Tom earlier in the week that he could be in charge of music, so he’s plugged his iPod into a speaker system that’s sitting on top of a cooler, blasting Boyz II Men and R. Kelly. 

There’s a bunch of field games that she had planned earlier in the week that she doesn’t feel like playing now that Ben’s gone, but Ann stands in as her partner. She never would have pegged Ann as having a good arm, but they win the water balloon toss. They lose the egg race, but Leslie’s sure they would have won if Ann didn’t question whether or not the eggs were hard boiled by throwing hers to the ground. They weren’t. Why would someone ever use hard-boiled eggs for an egg race?

They trip and fall right out of the gate for the three-legged race. Someone from Sewage wins that one. They don’t notice and lie next to each other in the grass for a while, laughing at their mistake. 

Besides, Leslie just can’t get up and leave. Her ankle is tied to Ann’s.

:.:.:

It’s evening now, and the get-together’s winding down. Leslie has willed Jerry into making a bonfire on the beach earlier in the night, and although he only nearly set himself on fire once, it’s grown into a huge, consuming bonfire with flames that have taken on a life of their own. People had been sitting around the fire on logs and old lawn chairs they had pulled from their chairs, and there were s’mores going around for a while, but they ran out of graham crackers after Andy and April fed them to a bunch of geese. 

Since then, everyone’s sort of dissipated and moved on to standing under the gazebo, sipping from beers and saying their goodbyes before heading out to their cars in the parking lot, or hanging down by the water. 

Leslie sits on a log, staring into the fire. The bag of marshmallows from earlier sits in her lap, her hand reaching down to grab one now and then. She can’t tell if she’s upset over her relationship status or if she’s just tired from being out in the sun all day, but she’s sure it’s a combination of the two. She’s beat. The marshmallows are nice. She wishes she had a stick she could roast one with.

A figure approaches her from the gazebo. Leslie brings her hand up over her eyes, unable to see over the smoke of the fire.  
It’s Ann. She’s wearing a blanket draped over her shoulders.

“Hey.” She waves a bottle in the air. “I brought you a wine cooler.”

Leslie smiles. 

“Where were you?”

Ann laughs, sitting next to Leslie. “Tom was throwing up in the parking lot and I wanted to make sure he was laying on his side before he fell asleep.”

Leslie sits up. “What? Where is he?”

“He was drunk… he’s fine. He’s sleeping in the trunk of Donna’s car.”

“Oh.” Leslie relaxes, taking a sip of her pink wine cooler. 

Ann looks at her, lips pursed. She wraps her arm around Leslie, enveloping both of them in the blanket she’s wearing. Leslie rests her head on Ann’s shoulder and pouts.

“Are you doing okay?”

“I don’t know. I thought I was doing okay, but…”

“But what?”

“It feels weird, that’s all. When I planned this, I was planning on having Ben here. For the water balloon toss, and the barbecue, and all of the other stuff.” She snuggles in closer to her friend and can feel Ann’s nose buried in her hair. She smiles, but hopes her hair doesn’t smell bad. She’s been out running and swimming and sweating all day. She probably smells like lake. 

Ann always smells like the vanilla candles she bought her for her birthday one year.

She doesn’t know why she knows what Ann smells like. Is that a normal thing? To remember what your best friend smells like?

“I think you’ve overthinking this,” Ann says. “I think that you can do much better than someone who didn’t even want to stay Facebook friends with you after her left.”

Leslie tips her head to look up at her. “Yeah, you’re probably right. That was pretty weird.”

“So high school.”

“Yeah.”

The women fall into each other, laughing again. Leslie sits up and looks back up at the gazebo, still scattered with people talking and drinking.

“Oh, sweet Ann, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She turns and looks at Ann, who’s laughing. She knows that she’s told her (and anyone else who would listen) countless times, but Ann is really pretty. Definitely the prettiest woman she’s ever seen – and she’s been to a Shania Twain concert. 

Ann turns to look at Leslie, her nose scrunched up in a smile. “I’m just saying, I think you’ll be happier with someone else. That’s all.”

They both smile and Ann moves her hand over Leslie’s. She doesn’t hesitate.

Leslie’s positive that when she dies, and she finally sees her life flash before her eyes like everyone always says will happen, she’ll see this – feel it, rather. She wonders if that’s a thing; feeling all of the hugs and the kisses and the held hands in her life instead of seeing them happen to her. She knows that when it’s finally her time to move on to wherever people go (she’s not entirely sure yet), she’ll see and feel this moment sprinkled among her career accomplishments.

There’s a moment that likely lasts a millisecond but feels like a lifetime, when Ann turns to Leslie and smiles, laughing at bit to herself, and reaches over to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Leslie’s ear. 

And Leslie’s not sure, or knows if she wants to be sure, but she swears that Ann’s hand lingers.

There isn’t a word for the feeling that bubbles up in her stomach when their lips meet. She now understands why Ann’s hand had moved to tuck her hair behind her ear, because it’s cupping her cheek, fingers in her hair. 

She isn’t sure how to respond. She’s never kissed another woman before. Well, really kissed another woman. There was that one time in high school that she kissed a girl while playing Spin the Bottle, but –

She can’t believe her mind is still a tornado while she’s in the middle of kissing someone.

They separate and Leslie sits there, stoic. She can feel the log dig into the underside of her thighs, the sand between her toes. Everything becomes heightened and she thinks her ears might be ringing? She’s not sure. Everything’s a blur and her head is swimming.

Ann stares at Leslie, eyes wide. She starts fidgeting and becomes restless.

“Leslie, I’m… I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

But she’s cut off, almost too fiercely.

This time, Leslie’s the one that’s kissing her.

:.:.:

“Leslie. You leaving for lunch today?”

Leslie turns around in her chair, smiling. She faces Tom, sporting a toothy grin. “No,” she says, drumming a pen against her desk. “Ann’s going to come here and we’re going to have lunch.” She pauses, confused. “I never leave for lunch. Why would you ask me if I was leaving for lunch?”

“No reason,” Tom says. “Just thought you would want to leave the office, damn.” He pauses, suddenly becoming more compassionate. “It’s just, y’know, ever since Ben left, you seem more upset lately.” He pouts. “You gotta get out there, Leslie. Show those guys what they’re missing out on.”

Leslie feels a smile grow on her face. “Oh, I’m fine,” she says. “I think I’m just going to cool it with the whole dating thing right now.” She stands and adjusts her blazer before reaching under her desk for her lunch. “But thanks, Tom.”

Her phone buzzes on her desk. 

“I’ll be back in an hour, okay?” She begins to make her way out of the office. “And remember, gang, just because I’m on my lunch break doesn’t mean you can’t reach me, okay?” She waves her phone by her face, smiling sweetly. “All you have to do is call, and I’ll –“

“Go,” April yells from her desk, her head down on the table. “Please.”

Leslie smiles before turning over her shoulder and heading out the door. She thinks it’s cute how much her co-workers care for her.

She meets Ann in the hallway with a hug. 

“I think I found a salad you would like,” Ann says, the two of them making their way to the courtyard. Leslie looks at her, eyes wide.

“You know how much I hate salad, Ann –“

“No, this one has a dressing that’s really sweet. You’d love it.”

Leslie rolls her eyes. “I doubt it, Ann. But, for you, I’ll try it. I guess.”

Ann giggles, and it makes Leslie smile. “Tom was trying to give me relationship advice back there.” She laughs. “It was kind of sweet, actually.”

They look at each other and share a knowing look, no words exchanged. 

Leslie thinks a lot about the moments where she and Ann don’t say anything to each other, just communicate with looks, and how they’ve evolved over time. Smiles had turned into hugs which had turned into sitting on the couch together, feet up on the ottoman and heads leaning against shoulders, both yelling and gesticulating at the TV with their wine glasses while watching The Bachelorette. 

And they still have all of that, but now they have kisses. And date nights. And sleepovers. And it’s still all very secretive and very much between them, but she doesn’t mind. Leslie didn’t share much of her love life with anyone when she was dating Ben, so it doesn’t bother her. 

It all feels so familiar and comfortable and like a place she was always supposed to be, but couldn’t find for reasons she can’t explain. She loves it when Ann stops by for lunch and they sit out in the courtyard like they always do, but now everything is brighter and sunnier and happier, even when there are clouds in the sky. She loves when she spends the night at Ann’s and wakes up before her, only to surprise her when she walks into the kitchen, hair messy, with a plate of waffles a mile high.

She’s happy, and so is Ann. 

She does kick herself sometimes, however. She wouldn’t be Leslie Knope if she didn’t. 

Not for believing that she would never find her someone, but that she was looking so hard for them in all of the wrong places.


End file.
